


Weekend Games

by dofunklethegrunkle



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Light Bondage, Medical Kink, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Sneaking Around, Sneaky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dofunklethegrunkle/pseuds/dofunklethegrunkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your boss has left town for the weekend, leaving his brother and you with a golden opportunity to get up to all sorts of things in the Shack without interruption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weekend Games

You let out a long breath as you come off your climax, collapsing against Ford’s chest with your fingers still kneading the fabric of his sweater, and he pulls out of you with a low groan. “You are amazing,” he sighs, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I certainly didn’t get any of _that_ in the portal…”

“Well, for someone who’s barely gotten any in the last thirty years, you’re still pretty damn hot, Old Timer,” you mumble teasingly, a smile creeping across your mouth.

“Don’t call me Old Timer,” he growls, playfully biting your neck. You let out a soft hum of pleasure.

You had taken the job at the Mystery Shack part time when school started, because the boss, Stan Pines, needed somebody to work the register during the day while the girl who’d been working for him all summer was at school. You had expected it to be a nice quiet position, a way to get out so you weren’t constantly holed up in your tiny house with only your online classes to keep you company.

You certainly hadn’t expected your boss’s brother to show an interest in you.

You’d moved to Gravity Falls in the first place because your father had been working for the government and been called out to investigate certain anomalies. Being the unattached person you were, you went along out of sheer curiosity. You didn’t know what had happened to him out in the woods when he went to investigate one night after gravity ceased to function, but he’d come back blissfully unaware of the reason he’d been called to Oregon, or that the entire town had been floating an hour before he arrived and started packing to head back home. You suspected then there was something very off about the town, and you’d been reluctant to leave.

Stanford Pines was the one who’d opened your eyes. He hadn’t intended to at first, but you’d come back to the Shack to fetch the jacket you’d left behind and he’d come bursting from a secret door behind the gift shop vending machine, chasing a tiny creature with too many legs and pouncing on it. For an older guy, he was… lithe. Quick.

And damn, was he attractive. Not to mention he had six fingers on each hand…

There was really no logically explaining the paranormal creature he’d been after once he’d caught it and noticed you staring, and after that he’d sat you down and explained some things. Everything. Specifically about how he’d built a portal and gotten trapped inside it for thirty years, having only just come out again the previous summer. And while it was hard to believe, you’d seen enough crazy things in this town already that it didn’t take a whole lot of convincing.

And then, somehow, you’d ended up sloppily making out with him in the room he’d claimed as his own, ending in a hasty bout of fucking. Neither of you had even gotten completely undressed.

In the weeks that followed when you knew you had time and wouldn’t get caught, you snuck behind the vending machine and down into his lab, and in the sparse ten minutes you had before you knew Stan would wonder where you were, Ford would satisfy the urges he hadn’t had opportunity to act on those thirty years he was in the portal by roughly handling your breasts, finger fucking you, _actually_ fucking you. You’d blown him more than once. But you’d never seen him totally naked – hell, you’d never even seen him with his sweater off – and he’d never seen you totally undressed either.

Ford steps away from you and stuffs himself back into his pants, pulling up his zipper. You sigh heavily, stretching out your arms as you climb off his desk, pulling your jeans back up and buttoning them. “So,” you say slowly, approaching Ford and wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your ear against his back. “Stan’s going to be gone all weekend.”

Your boss was going on a road trip to Nevada, apparently on bounds that he was going to investigate a possible new attraction for the Shack, but you knew better. He was getting an itch to return to Vegas.

“Yes,” Ford says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “He is.”

“We wouldn’t have to hide,” you suggest, a little hesitantly. “If you want me to come around, that is.”

He turns around and stares fondly at you, reaching a hand up to trace your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine. “Of course I do.”

You smile and shut your eyes, nuzzling against his chest and listening to the beat of his heart. You’ve been gone from the shop nearly fifteen minutes now. Stan’s going to start wondering where you are. With a light groan you pull away. “I’ve got to go back to work.”

“Have it your way,” Ford sighs, sinking into his chair as you turn towards the door. Something catches your eye. You’ve been in this lab a couple dozen times now, and the peg near the door has always been empty. Today it has a white lab coat hanging from it.

You shudder, imagining Ford in it. Because who else would have worn it so that it was there. You cross to it, pulling it off the hook. “This is new,” you comment, trying not to sound too taken aback by its sudden presence.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I was working with a few chemicals earlier; I wasn’t particularly keen on ruining my nice jacket if something were to spill,” Ford said offhandedly. He was already shuffling through papers again. He always seemed to be working.

Well, when the two of you weren’t fucking, that was.

“Do you… do you wear it often?” you ask, and Ford looks up when you stumble over your words.

At once, he grins. “Your face is red,” he says, standing back up and approaching you. He leans down so his eyes are level with yours, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Why are you blushing, hm?”

You can only stare at him, humiliated that you’re so readable. The fact is, you have a thing for lab coats. It’s one of those weird fetishes you’ve always kept to yourself.

“You want to see me in it?” Ford breathes into your ear, and you can’t repress a shiver of pleasure that racks your body from the very thought.

“I… I need to get back upstairs,” you manage to choke out, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him again before you can escape.

“So, like you said, Stanley’s leaving tonight,” he growls lowly in your ear. God, he has to know the way he’s affecting you. “Why don’t we have a little fun?”

You’re intrigued, dangerously so. You didn’t really take Ford for the roleplaying kind of guy, but you get the feeling you’re about to be pleasantly surprised. “What kind of fun?”

“Well… playing scientist and assistant is just no fun,” he mutters, kissing your neck. You suppress a whimper. “But a lab coat is perfect for other games, don’t you think?”

“Games?” Your voice is barely a squeak.

You feel his lips stretching into a smile as his kisses travel to your earlobe. “I don’t know about you, but I, for one, think it’s high time I got to see you totally naked,” he whispers. His hot breath on the sensitive flesh behind your ear is making you want to melt. “So tonight, when you get here, I think you’re going to get a thorough checking over.”

Oh, god. Doctor. He’s talking about playing doctor.

Already you’re so excited you can barely think. You want him to start the game right now, at this very second, but suddenly he’s pushing you towards the door of the elevator. “Back to work,” he orders, sucking all the sensuality out of the air. “I’ve got a lot to do.” He pulls down the lever that will send you back up to the gift shop, and grins at you just as the doors start to close. “Especially if I want to get everything prepared for tonight.”

And then the doors shut and you are alone in the elevator as it starts to rise, letting out a groan of sexual frustration.

Tonight can’t come fast enough.

 

As eager as you are, nerves are settling in fast as you mount the stairs that lead to the main door of the Mystery Shack, not the gift shop door, which you usually come in through for work. You’ve never been here this late. The sun is already sinking below the trees. When you reach the door, you find a note taped to it in Ford’s loopy scrawl. _Sit in the living room and wait until you’re called._

He’s really setting the tone, you think, biting your lip and heading inside. You don’t bother announcing that you’ve arrived, but do make sure to make a little noise so he knows you’re there. Just in case.

The waiting is true agony. You sit in the living room on the very edge of the armchair that sits in front of the television, picking at the fabric on the armrests and nervously crossing your legs. One foot bounces up and down in jittery anticipation. You hope Ford comes for you soon. The waiting, the wondering, is torture.

But he lets you stew. Ten minutes pass, and you’re not sure if he’s doing this to you on purpose or if it’s possible he didn’t hear you come in, when at last you hear his bedroom door open and he calls your name. You jolt up out of the chair, trying to get your nerves under control. You’re damn near shaking, not sure what to expect.

It’s a miracle you manage to get into Ford’s room without your knees buckling, to be honest. And when you finally do make it through his door you nearly fall over anyway, because _holy shit_. Ford is sitting at the desk in the room with the lab coat on over his sweater, staring intensely at sheets of paper on a clipboard. You’re curious about what he could possibly be looking at, but he sets the clipboard down, out of your line of sight, before adjusting his glasses as he looks up at you and smiling when we sees how nervous you are. “Good evening,” he greets you without looking up, gesturing to the chair in front of him. “Please have a seat.”

You proceed into his room, shutting the door behind you and taking your first good look around. The usual clutter has been confined to the far wall and covered by a white bedsheet so you can’t see it. The couch is still pushed against the wall below the window, but it has no blankets or papers strewn across it anymore.

But what makes your trembles increase is the fact that Ford has pushed his bed to the center of the room, as well as a lamp with an adjustable neck so he will be able to maneuver it however he wants. Next to the bed is Ford’s nightstand, a black medical bag sitting innocently on top of it.

You sink into the chair, hands fumbling anxiously with the fabric of your jeans. You know your face is already red, and your body is still shaking with excitement and nerves alike. You’ve never played any sort of roleplaying game before, and you’re afraid you’re going to mess it up terribly for Ford, who in contrast is exuding an aura of excitement and anticipation as he looks you up and down, and then his casual expression flickers and there’s concern in his features. He reaches out for you and places a hand on your knee, effectively ceasing your nervous fidgeting. “Are you feeling nervous?” he asks softly.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your voice probably wouldn’t work properly anyway.

Ford breaks his character then. You can feel the shift in his mood and demeanor, and suddenly he’s your adorable and slightly awkward nerd again. “If you’re uncomfortable with this, we don’t have to—”

He cuts short when you lean forward, planting a kiss on his lips. You’re not so nervous anymore. It’s still Ford. He’s certainly not going to hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants to do. “I’m okay,” you whisper, offering him a shy smile as you pull away.

He’s the one who’s blushing now, you note with satisfaction as he fumbles for his clipboard again, flipping over a couple pages and pulling the pen from his breast pocket. “Alright then,” he says, sounding a little flustered. He clears his throat, trying to get into character again. “I just a few, er… preliminary questions for you to answer here.”

“Okay,” you say, smoothing out the crimps you made in the fabric of your jeans earlier with your nervous fidgeting.

He takes a deep breath and suddenly that casual, commanding aura is back, and he’s in character again. It’s quite a talent, you think briefly. He would have made a good actor. “Are you sexually active?”

You roll your eyes. Like he didn’t know. “Yes, I am.”

“And how is it?” He looks up at you as though it’s a simple question, but you can see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. So he’s fishing for compliments, is he?

You can give him those. “Phenomenal,” you say, lips twitching up into a smile. “Earth shattering. Best sex I’ve ever had.”

You’re very pleased to see the slightest blush cross his cheeks. He sits up a little straighter, regaining his composure before he can lose it. “Are you aware that your examination today is going to be rather in-depth?”

Oh, god, you can feel the liquid heat building between your legs. “I… yes,” you stammer out. You can feel your muscles tensing.

“To keep you from hurting yourself I may have to restrain you during portions of your exam. Is that alright?”

If your face isn’t completely red right now you will be very surprised. Ford is doing everything right already, and you haven’t even really started playing the game yet. He’s even found a way to talk about your boundaries in an agonizingly sexy way. “That’s… that’s fine,” you manage to get out on a shuddery exhale.

“Your examination today will include a thorough pelvic check, per usual,” Ford says as casually as if he was talking about the weather, as you try to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of sexual frustration. “I recommend a rectal examination as well, but it’s not a necessary requirement; if you’d like to opt out you’re more than free to.”

The thought frightens you. You’ve had plenty of sex, but you’ve never been penetrated there before. You’re not certain you ever want to be. “I-I think I’ll opt out,” you decide, hoping that isn’t going to disappoint Ford.

But he takes the news without reaction and scratches something on his clipboard. “That’s completely fine,” he tells you simply, and makes sure to look you directly in the eye before he says, “And please keep in mind you can change your decision at any time during this examination.”

You nod, a little impressed he’s handling this role so well. He really would have made a tremendous actor. Since the blush a few questions ago he hasn’t slipped up once.

“If at any time during your exam you feel any discomfort or feel you can no longer continue, you only have to tell me to stop,” Ford says, a gentler tone to his voice this time. “Is that acceptable to you?”

“Yes,” you nod a little jerkily. You hadn’t thought about that, and you’re very glad that he did. He’s so considerate, really. He may be the one playing the dominate role (this time) but he’s made it very clear that you’re still the one in control. “Thank you.”

He scratches a final note on his clipboard and sets it down again. He notices you craning your neck to see what’s on it and flips it over, giving you a stern look that says _don’t be nosy._ Fine. He can have his secrets. “Let’s get started,” he says, pulling open his top desk drawer and beginning to pull instruments out of it. You recognize the stethoscope and the tongue depressors, and the penlight. You can identify the function of the last tool, which based on previous (actual) exams you’ve had you recognize as an instrument to examine ears, but the name escapes you.

“Where did you get all this?” you start to ask, but Ford shushes you as he scoots his chair nearer to you, positioning himself so close that your chair is between his legs. You can save those questions until after the game is finished, you decide. For now, you’re going to try to enjoy this.

Ford picks up the penlight first, and the fingers of his free hand cup your chin lightly, angling your face upwards. “Look up,” he commands gently, and you do. He clicks the light on and you’re momentarily blinded before your eyes begin to water, but you follow his instructions to look in various directions before he shuts the penlight off and tells you everything looks fine.

You thought he was being so cool and collected, but you observe his hands trembling slightly as he shakes a tongue depressor out of the small case, but by the time he turns back to you and takes your chin in his fingers again they are steady. You pretend not to have noticed when he tells you to open wide, clicking the penlight again as he presses down on your tongue with the depressor and peers at your throat. You watch Ford’s expression as he does so. His focus is intense. He’s really concentrating hard on this.

He keeps a hand on your chin as he removes the depressor and tosses it into a waste bin beneath his desk, then turns back to you, placing both hands on your jaw and lightly pressing down, fingers moving down your neck with gentle pressure. “Is this alright?” he asks as his fingers palpate back up your neck towards you ears.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, shuddering when his thumbs brush against your earlobes. He smiles as he takes your hair, brushing it behind your neck, making sure to drag his fingers across your skin as he does so. He picks up the instrument whose name you couldn’t remember and sticks the thin end of the cone in your ear. You shut your eyes, focusing on the sensation of Ford’s fingers on the nape of your neck and his breath tickling your ear as he peers through the scope of the instrument. He pulls away and repeats the process with your other ear.

You’re tempted to kiss him again when he sits back, but decide against it. He’s still in character, and you don’t want to break his focus. Especially since there’s a sudden shift in the energy of the air – an anticipation that sets your nerves on edge.

Things are about to get interesting.

Ford starts shuffling through the papers on his clipboard again, running his fingers through his hair. He’s still calm and collected, but you can practically hear the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to figure out his next move. He finally puts down the clipboard and picks up the stethoscope, positioning it around his neck. “I’m going to need you to take off your shirt,” he says, and you can’t suppress a little grin to see his cheeks tinge pink.

You can’t believe he’s blushing over something so high school. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fondled them – vigorously – before. So what if he hasn’t actually seen you with your shirt off yet, since he usually went straight for the buttons on your jeans instead of bothering to pull your shirt off. You were usually pressed for time. But now you have all night, and all weekend after. He can take all the time with you he wants, and you get the feeling he’s going to take advantage of that.

You pull your shirt off over your head and throw it towards the couch on the other side of the room, missing it by a couple of feet and landing in a heap on the floor. Ford ignores it and instead rakes his eyes over you. You hear him mutter something under his breath, but you don’t quite catch what it is he’s saying. You assume it’s good, though, because the look in his eyes is one of adoration.

Ford moves incredibly close to you as he sticks the prongs of the stethoscope in his ears, placing his hand on the small of your back. You arch into him just slightly, and when he sticks the metal circle of the instrument on your chest you flinch. He pulls it back. “Too cold?” he asks, and you nod. “Sorry,” he apologizes, cupping it in his free hand and blowing on it, trying to warm it up. The situation is just so ridiculous you have to giggle.

He rolls his eyes and presses it back onto your skin over your chest, the metal noticeably warmer. “Shush,” he instructs, and you quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. You see the smile flicker on his lips, but don’t point it out. He’s the type who would get affected by hearing a heartbeat. You make a mental note to ask if you can try out the stethoscope out on him later.

He moves it to your back and asks you to breathe in, and you do. In and out, a few times until Ford is satisfied and hangs the stethoscope back around his neck. “Everything sounds good,” he says, then gives you a meaningful look. “Should we continue?”

God, you want to kiss him. He’s being so considerate, so careful. You nod, and for good measure reply with a, “Yes, Doctor.” He grins at that, picking up the clipboard again and flipping it over to a page, staring intensely at it for a few moments before he glances up at you. “If we’re proceeding, I’ll need for you to remove your bra.”

“Of course.” You find it easier and easier to slip into your role of his compliant patient. Ford has made you comfortable with this game – now that things are picking up speed, you’re more than willing to be a more prominent player as well. An idea strikes you and you roll with it, knowing Ford will be more than eager to comply with any request you make. You pretend to try and undo the clasps for a brief moment, and then ask, “Could I maybe get some assistance?”

Ford seems taken aback by your initiative, but the shock in his expression is instantaneous; within a few seconds he is smiling in amusement. “Absolutely.”

You start to turn your back to him, but before you can his arms are wrapping around you, keeping you in place. You feel a finger at the base of your spine, running slowly up and making your back arch into the touch, before it reaches the clasp of your bra and ceases. Some light pressure and a gentle tug, and Ford is sliding your bra down your arms and off of them, folding it and placing it neatly at the corner of his desk.

Only then does he turn his face back to you, drinking in the sight of your bare chest and clearly enjoying every second of it. You straighten out your posture, rolling your shoulders back just slightly to give him a better view. He lets out a long breath. He’s felt your breasts plenty of times, but he hasn’t seen them before tonight. He’s getting a hungry look in his eyes and you almost break. As much as you’re enjoying the game, you’d really like it if he just pounced now and you could fall into a pool of passion and pleasure with him.

But Ford recovers quickly, shoving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and instructs you at last to the bed. “Lie flat on your back,” he orders, standing up from his chair and proceeding to his “exam table,” watching as you lower yourself down onto his sheets. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a scarf. “Arms up,” he commands, and when you comply he grasps your wrists and directs them to the spindles of his bedpost, tying them together and to the bed so they aren’t uncomfortable, but you can by no means move them. “This is for your safety,” he reminds you with a bit of a purr to his voice, eyes raking over you again. You can only imagine how much fun he’s going to have when he gets your pants off.

He reaches for the lamp and turns it on, positioning it so the beam shines onto your torso. You can feel the heat of the light and you squirm a bit, trying to find the most comfortable position. Being tied up like this is turning you on more than you could have ever imagined. Ford positions himself at your side and breaks character for just a moment, because he grins at you, and then his hands are on your breasts, circling them with the soft pads of his fingers, tantalizingly circling inward. A part of you realizes that he’s actually trying to perform a real breast exam. He’s done his homework.

What a nerd.

However, that explains the look of intense concentration in his features as his fingers move closer and closer to your nipples. It’s just so very him. It figures he would actually try to throw some realism into your game. Not to mention he’s ridiculously overprotective, so you really should have expected this.

His soft touch starts driving you a little crazy, especially combined with the inability to move your hands. When after what seems like forever he finally tweaks your nipples, you let out a soft whimper. You hear him chuckle softly and he pinches them again. “Interesting,” he says, and you know that tone of voice. He’s about to drive you absolutely wild. “I think I’m going to have to perform a few tests.”

Jesus. “T-tests?” you repeat. Anticipation is knotting in your stomach, though it’s not unpleasant. “What sort of tests?”

“A few responsive tests. It’ll require some stimulation. Nothing to be concerned about,” Ford says nonchalantly. Maybe there’s nothing to be concerned about, but there’s reason to be excited, and you can feel yourself getting more and more aroused.

Without warning Ford is squeezing your breasts again, definitely not in a diagnostic way, kneading the soft flesh and flicking his thumbs across your nipples until they’re painfully erect. “Excellent response to digital stimulation,” Ford mutters lowly. You wonder how turned on he is right now. If it’s even half as much as you are, it’s probably nearly painful for him. “Let’s try this…”

You let out a shrill cry of pleasure as his mouth meets one of your breasts, the other still receiving attention from his fingers. His teeth rake across your nipple and you jolt, arching you back in a desperate attempt to get closer. His tongue is doing magical things, and _dear god, the suction_ —you’re damn near on cloud nine. You’ve been waiting for this for what feels like an eternity.

When Ford pulls away you let out a whine of protest, and he flashes you a cheeky grin. “It appears to elicit much stronger results,” he notes, almost jokingly by now. His character is broken and you don’t care. As he leans in and begins to suck at your other breast the noise that rips from your throat is halfway between a guttural moan and a desperate whine, made worse by the fact that you wish you could grab onto him but you can’t. You can only ball your hands into fists and arch your back and pray that he’ll offer you release soon, because this is a sweet agony you barely think you can take anymore.

Ford pulls away after a couple minutes and regains his composure. You’re fairly certain you heard him mutter something along the lines of “so sexy” under his breath before he straightens his lab coat and puts on his doctor façade again. “Excellent responses,” he says. His voice is just a little breathy. “Are you ready to proceed?”

You let out the tiniest whimper, failing completely at attempting to speak, and before you know it Ford is working at the scarf on your hands, and he’s just Ford, not the play doctor he’s been for the last twenty minutes. “Are you okay?” he’s asking desperately, and you realize he’s genuinely concerned.

You find your voice all at once, mainly because you _don’t want him to fucking stop._ This game is incredible. You want to keep playing it. “Don’t,” you hiss out as he’s untying your hands, and he ceases. “I want to keep going.”

He relaxes immediately. “Oh… I thought maybe I had hurt you, or upset you… you couldn’t even _speak_ …”

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes, wishing you could kiss him because he’s just such an adorable old nerd. “Because you just turned me on more than I think I’ve ever been turned on before. Now would you please just _keep fucking going_ because I am loving this.”

You can tell he’s still coming out of panic mode, and you fear that incident may have ruined your game. But he ties your hands back up and steps away, steeling himself by taking a deep breath. “Alright, then,” he says slowly. You can practically feel him building back up his doctor character. You just hope he’ll find it soon.

Ford starts up again by placing his hands on your abdomen, lightly pressing it in various spots. You can tell this wasn’t originally part of his plan; he’s just trying to get back to where he was a few minutes ago. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually he’s got the calm and collected façade back on, and the game continues.

He slides a finger beneath the waistband of your jeans and tells you he’ll need to remove them for you as your hands are still tied. You agree, and he works at the button and zipper, undoing them, before gently sliding your jeans down and off your legs. He proceeds to place his hands on the insides of your thighs, rubbing them until you part your legs as wide as comfort will allow. Ford tugs at your panties and you raise your hips to help him along as he pulls those off of you too. And at last, after weeks of brief dalliances, Ford is finally seeing you completely naked for the first time.

And from what you can tell he’s immensely enjoying the view. His eyes are raking over you in gazes you can practically feel, giving you goosebumps. “Excellent,” he whispers, running a hand through his hair again and taking a deep breath. “Just…magnificent.”

You give him the most innocent expression you can manage and try to speed things along by adopting your own role again. You just want him to touch you. “Are we starting the pelvic exam now?”

His eyes light up, and he goes over to the couch and retrieves the pillows piled neatly at one end. “How very shrewd of you. That is our next focus for this examination,” he says, his voice pleased. He pats your leg and instructs you to lift your hips as high as you can, which you’re sure makes for an interesting sight as he gets the pillows beneath you and you lay back again, this time with your body angled so that your head is lower than your hips.

Ford goes pulls a box from his black bag and sets it down on his nightstand. He picks up the lamp and brings it to the foot of the bed, positioning it so it shines directly on the liquid heat between your legs. You start squirming, knowing any minute now Ford’s going to be conducting his in-depth “examination.”

Ford pulls something from the box he brought out, but you don’t see what it is until you hear the snap of latex, and it turns you on so much your entire body jolts. He’s at the foot of the bed, putting on latex gloves that he had to have specially made because he has six fingers on each hand, making sure the snaps as he puts on the second one are loud and clear because he saw how the first affected you. He places both gloved hands on your knees. “I’m going to need you to spread these a little more,” he says, nudging them further apart. You can feel the heat of the lamp on that most aching part of you.

Ford runs a finger along your slit and you let out a hiss through clenched teeth. You need more than that. He pauses long enough to make a sound of amusement, then adds his other hand, spreading you open to get a good view. “Everything looks good,” he says, still staring. If your hands weren’t tied you’d be hiding your face behind them. “And it certainly looks like I won’t be needing any lubrication for this particular exam.”

You’re certain you’re blushing harder than you ever have before. Ford snorts, a sound of laughter he’s trying desperately to repress, and abruptly fingers your clit.

You damn near leap off the bed, the pleasure is so intense. “ _Christ!_ ” you yelp as he circles it, and you know your reactions are greatly amusing him.

“Interesting reaction,” Ford notes playfully, refusing to let up on his ministrations. “You seem particularly sensitive here.”

A moan rips from your throat. God, you wonder how you must look, spread out with your hips raised the way you are, wanting to beg Ford to bring you to orgasm. Your legs are shaking and you can feel sweat behind your knees and you’re trying to arch your back as far as you can. You can’t remember any guy ever giving this much attention to your clit.

You don’t know what does it, exactly – the slow and deliberate circling, the lingering over skin that makes you whimper your pleasure, or the gentle flick of a finger over the small bead of nerve endings, but suddenly everything is blurry starbursts and your body is spasming with the intensity of your orgasm.

You let out a sound that’s hallway between a whimper and a sigh as reality blurs back into your consciousness, and Ford asks from the foot of the bed, “Are you okay to continue?”

You try to say something but your voice doesn’t seem to be working quite yet, so instead you shut your eyes and nod, letting out a long breath. That had been intense. You wonder what Ford has in store for you next, and –

 _Holy shit._ His finger enters you without warning and your hips buck involuntarily into the penetration. Ford pulls out his finger. “None of that,” he scolds, pushing your hips back down. “Do I need to use more restraints?”

As much as the idea appeals to you, you shake your head. You know he won’t let you get away with such enthusiastic thrusting, but you can probably still get away with some small ones, and that option would go away if he strapped you down.

Keeping one hand on your hip, the other returns to your wetness and the finger goes in again. You squeak and tense your muscles, desperately trying to stifle the desire to buck your hips forward again. Ford applies more pressure, his finger sheathing itself in you to the knuckle and twisting. Your hands are desperately clenching at the scarf, looking for any anchor to grasp onto. Ford adds another finger and the stretching sensation is intense, getting more powerful as he begins to thrust them languidly in and out. His thumb brushes your clit and you let out a legitimate howl. You’ve _never_ made a noise like that before. You have nothing to hold onto, no sheets to grasp or shoulders to cling to, and you’re on your own to endure this wonderful, overwhelming sensation. You’re on sensual overload.

This orgasm is more powerful than your last, your every muscle clenching to the point it’s almost painful, and you think you let some warped shriek out but you can’t be sure because blood is roaring in your ears. Nothing makes sense. Colors, light, sounds. None of them compare to the rush of pleasure you’re drowning in, and never want to leave.

But you do, coming off the sensation slowly. Ford slowly pulls his fingers out and settles on slowly stroking between your folds, careful not to brush against your clit again. “Excellent muscle definition,” he gasps out. His face is red and you’re 100 percent positive he has a raging hard-on, and yet he is still playing this game. And he might be the one playing the dominant part of it, but he’s still revering you like a goddess.

You nod distractedly, still trying to root yourself back in reality. “That’s… that’s good…”

Ford starts peeling his gloves off, crossing briefly to his desk to toss them in his waste bin. “There is still one last test I would like to perform, if you’re up to it.”

You’re not sure you’re up for one more, to be honest. But there’s no harm in asking, you suppose. “What’s that?”

“You seemed to respond well to digital stimulation,” Ford says, crossing back over to you, this time coming to stand at the head of the bed. He leans in close, brushing a few flyaway strands of hair away from your face and puts his lips close to your ear. “Let’s see your reaction to oral.”

You whimper and nod. You can’t say no to that. His hot breath tickling your ear has got you riled up again. You can take one more. In fact, as he smiles and positions himself between your legs again, pushing them just a bit wider mumbling about “complete access,” you feel anticipation building up in your chest.

He teases you first, kissing and sucking at the skin on your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your wetness until after a couple minutes of that sweet agony his lips graze across that aching part of you. You moan and dig your shoulders into the mattress. It’s taking everything you’ve got not to buck your hips again.

His tongue slides between your folds. “ _Fuck!_ ” you cry, your voice one of the only outlets you have left. Your hands are grasping at the scarf so tightly your knuckles are starting to hurt. “Oh, _God! Ford!_ ”

Your desperate moans only encourage him, and his tongue digs into you, wiggling up and down in a rapid motion that makes you gasp and shudder. Your muscles are tense, you can feel sweat beading on the backs of your knees. Ford brings a hand into the equation, lightly rubbing your clit with a finger.

There it is, your third orgasm in the last ten minutes. You’re plummeting from a peak into a sea of passion, and ride the waves as Ford relentlessly laps at you, refusing to cease until you’re screaming his name before he pulls away and leaves you to ride it out, coming off your orgasm and seeing everything through hazy lids. When consciousness fully takes root in your passion-hazy mind Ford is working at the scarf around your hands and his doctor persona is gone, replaced with your adorable, awkward nerd. “We’re done,” he’s saying softly, his smile ever-present on his lips. “You did so well.”

He pulls the scarf away and takes your hands, positioning them so they’re at your sides and no longer above your head. You’re still a little dazed, and don’t move as he tugs the pillows from beneath your hips, letting your body fall onto the mattress. He places the pillows back on the couch and picks up a blanket, coming back to the bed and sitting next to you. He slides a hand beneath your back and coaxes you into a sitting position. “Here,” he says, tossing the blanket around your shoulders and making sure it’s wrapped around you before he draws you closer, onto his lap, and cradles you in his arms with your ear pressed to his chest. You sigh contentedly and snuggle into him.

“That was incredible,” you mumble, shutting your eyes for a moment. You’d never had such powerful orgasms before, and certainly not as many in such quick succession as you’d just experienced.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Ford says, combing through your hair with his fingers. “And you feel okay?”

“Better than okay.” You open your eyes and pull back to stare at him. “I’m wonderful.”

He grazes a kiss to your forehead and stands, keeping you curled up in his arms. “Come on,” he sighs, grunting a bit when he straightens up. “Weekend’s only just beginning.”

He brings you out to the living room and sets you down on the armchair, kissing your cheek and pulling away. “I’ll be back,” he says. “Just going to go put my room back together.”

“Mm-kay,” you mumble, curling up and resting your head on the arm of the chair. Ford chuckles and heads out of the room. You doze for several minutes, waiting for him to return.

His hands sliding beneath your body bring you back to alertness, and then he’s lifting you up only to pull you back into him as he seats himself with you on his lap. You notice his lab coat is gone.

“Stan should really get a couch,” you say, looking around the room a bit. Ford appears to have tidied up. The room is a lot less cluttered than usual.

“You think?” he laughs, holding you tighter to his chest. “I think this has certain advantages.”

You grin and look up at him. “So, where did you get all that medical stuff?”

“Oh, uh,” Ford grimaces. “The portal, actually. Whenever I came across it I stocked up, since I never knew when I’d find a med bay again. Now I have enough medical supplies to keep a doctor’s office well stocked.”

“Huh,” you nodded and rested your head back against his chest. You could hear his heart beating in his chest, and it appeared to be going a bit faster than usual. “What about the clipboard? What did that have on it?”

Ford groaned. “This is embarrassing.”

“Come on, you have to tell me!”

He sighed and lowered his head so it rested in the crook of your neck. “Notes,” he admitted sheepishly. “I, uh, researched play exams and real exams to make sure…” he trailed off. “It sounds a bit contrived, I know.”

“I think it sounds adorable,” you giggle, kissing the top of his head. “I noticed you actually tried to give me a breast exam.”

“Did I do it right?” he asked, looking up hopefully at you. God, he was just the most adorable old nerd.

“I’d say so,” you grinned back. “Best breast exam I’ve ever had.”

He turned red. “Well, then. That’s… good, I suppose.”

“In fact,” you purr, kissing his neck. “I think I might need a follow up in a couple of weeks. Just to make sure, you know?”

His laughter is infectious. It makes you grin wider. “I think I can slip you in for an appointment.”

“Only on one condition, though.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

You nip at his earlobe. “That _I_ get to examine _you_ sometime.”

He kisses you full on the mouth then, tongue delving inside and probing the back of your top teeth as his mouth moves against yours. He pulls away and trails kisses to your neck, his stubble scratching tantalizingly against your jaw. He shoves the blanket away from your shoulders and it falls to the floor so you’re totally nude in front of him again. “We can _definitely_ arrange that.”

You try to revel in the sensations his kisses are giving you, but you’re a bit distracted with the task of trying to get his sweater off of him.

“Wait,” Ford gasps, and your hands halt.

“What is it?”

“I have, er, scars. Lots of them. From the portal, you know,” Ford fumbles over a few of the words, turning redder by the second. “I just don’t want you to panic, you know, when you see them—”

You cut him short with a long, deep kiss. “You got to see me naked,” you remind him softly. “It’s my turn to see you.”

He relaxes and nodes, and you start yanking at the bottom of his sweater, pulling it over his arms and away from his body. And he is scarred. There are puckered white lines and faint pink claw marks all over his body. “Oh, _Ford,_ ” you whisper, tracing a particularly long mark on his chest with your fingers.

“I told you,” he mutters, sounding embarrassed.

You don’t want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed, though. He treated you like a goddess. You want him to feel like a god. So you lean forward and begin to trace his scars with kisses, lapping at the longer ones with your tongue. Ford groans. “That’s amazing,” he breathes out, his voice shuddering as you travel down his chest and stomach, stopping when you reach the seam of his pants.

You look up at him. “May I…?” You let the question hang and he nods, so you undo his belt buckle and loosen it for him, sliding it out of its loopholes. “Next time you should tie me up with this,” you whisper, and he groans.

“Don’t say things like that to me right now,” he complains half-heartedly. “You’re driving me mad enough as it is.”

“Not sorry,” you grin up at him, undoing the button on his pants and then the zipper before sliding your hands beneath the waistband of his pants and boxers and start tugging down. His member springs free, and you’ve seen it before, but it’s still imposing. It’s of pretty average length, but the girth is impressive.

You want to see Ford naked, but you don’t want to have sex on your boss’s armchair. “Can we go back to your bedroom?” you ask, and Ford nods once before scooping you back up and practically sprinting to his room, which is back to the way it usually is. The black bag and the lamp are nowhere to be seen. Ford all but throws you down onto the bed you were tied to twenty minutes earlier and you tilt your head to watch as he removes his pants and boxers.

There it is. You’re totally naked with him.

He climbs atop you and begins roughly kissing your neck, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts. His erection is digging into your hip. You don’t need any more foreplay, you decide, and Ford has more than deserved a good fuck. You ask him to get his condoms, not surprised when he reaches beneath the bed and procures the box. He prepared for tonight.

He gets it on faster than you’ve ever seen a guy put one on, and you sit up and insist he lay back, though he protests. He’s used to doing all the work. Well, not tonight. Tonight you want to ride him, and you inform him so while shoving his back into the mattress.

He watches you intently as you position yourself over him and ease him into you before he breathes in hard. “Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth as you bury him in you to the hilt.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this deep in you before,” he manages to say, looking like he is trying very hard not to groan.

You rock your body back and forth by way of response, raising yourself up and allowing yourself to fall again in a steady rhythm until Ford can’t take it anymore, grasping at your hips and digging his nails into your skin, thrusting up into you, making the pace faster and faster. He’s rubbing against your sweet spot and you’re still so turned on from your game that you come again just as he reaches his climax, and he shouts out your name.

Quite an achievement, you think. He’s never done that before.

You roll off of him and he shifts over so you have room to lay next to him, legs tangled together as your chests heave up and down, gasping for air. He wraps an arm around you, letting you snuggle into his shoulder. “Damn,” Ford mutters, wiping his forehead. “You are something else.”

“I pride myself on it,” you breathe out, rolling your neck back and forth to stretch it a bit. “Have I mentioned you are damn sexy?”

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate it,” Ford smiles, leaning in to give you a light kiss on the mouth. “So, not to ruin the moment, but I think a shower might be in order.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“And then I was thinking I could make you dinner.”

Your smile is so wide your face hurts a little. “That sounds amazing.”

 

That weekend was the most incredible you’d ever had. You came more times than you could count. You and Ford reversed roles of your game, and you had him screaming your name by the end of his own “exam”. You were still proud you had that effect on him. The sex was fantastic every time.

You had a dreamy grin on your face when you came in for work the next Monday morning, sitting at the cashier counter and waiting for customers to roll in. Stan came into the Shop, glancing at you.

“Good morning,” you greeted him.

“Yeah. Morning,” he grunted back.

“How was Vegas?”

He shrugged. “It was Vegas. You know how it is. But forget about that. Did you and Ford have fun this weekend?”

You almost choked on your coffee. “What?!” you spluttered after a coughing fit. “How did you—?! I mean—?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, Kid. I’m not an idiot.”

Your face turned so red you could barely stand it, lowering your head into your hands so Stan couldn’t see how humiliated you were. He’d known all along. How had you been unaware of that fact?

Well… at least you didn’t have to be so secretive about it anymore.


End file.
